Ms. Wen sat by the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his forehead, her warm palm pressing against his cool, sweaty skin. She didn't pry into what he had called out in his dream, nor did she ask why he was crying. She simply looked at him quietly with gentle eyes and asked softly, "Had a nightmare?"
Jiang Zhaoye froze for a moment. His chaotic emotions settled within her tranquil presence, and feeling a little embarrassed, he nodded, his voice hoarse. "Yeah."
"Are you hungry? I'll cook you a bowl of noodles."
Jiang Zhaoye had originally wanted to say he wasn't, but the words stuck in his throat.
Sitting up awkwardly, he rubbed his eyes to cover his composure. "I'm hungry."
Ms. Wen asked no further questions. She stroked his head as if comforting a puppy, then stood up and left the room.
Jiang Zhaoye sat on the bed, listening to the activity in the kitchen outside—the running tap water, the clinking of pots and bowls... His heart gradually settled into peace.
He looked down at his hand, which he had just used to wipe his face; a trace of moisture lingered on his fingertips.
A rich aroma of scallions and soy sauce wafted across the living room and slipped through the half-open bedroom door, warm and welcoming.
Jiang Zhaoye's stomach let out a loud rumble. He pursed his lips, pushed down the chaotic emotions stirring inside him, and got out of bed to leave the room.
Ms. Wen set a large, steaming bowl of noodles before him. Bright green chopped scallions floated on the surface of the broth, topped with a neatly shaped poached egg and a generous heap of sliced braised beef.
Jiang Zhaoye's stomach betrayed his dignity once more, growling loudly to his mother's delight. He hurriedly picked up his chopsticks and dug in.
The noodles were chewy and the broth rich and scalding. With every bite, a comforting warmth spread from his stomach to his limbs.
Ms. Wen sat across from him, cradling a mug of hot tea. She watched him eat, taking occasional sips as the gentle fragrance of roselle drifted from her cup.
Only when he finished the entire bowl did his mother speak up in a gentle tone. "Has something been bothering you lately?"
Jiang Zhaoye's chopsticks paused. Feeling awkward and torn, he ultimately shook his head. "No... it was just a nightmare."
A faint smile touched Ms. Wen's eyes. She gazed at him for a long moment without pressing further, merely reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "If there's ever anything you want to talk about, you can always tell Mom."
Jiang Zhaoye avoided her gaze and gave a muted nod. "Yeah."
Ms. Wen casually stood up and went upstairs, returning to her bedroom.
As the sound of her door closing echoed from upstairs, Jiang Zhaoye set down his chopsticks, let out a long breath, and leaned back against his chair, closing his eyes.
He knew he couldn't go on like this forever.
The life belonging to Jiang Zhaoye was only just beginning. He still had so much to do and a long way left to go.
He couldn't change the tragic state of that other world—at least not right now... But he could grow stronger. Strong enough to have the power to change something.
Having devoured the massive bowl of noodles, Jiang Zhaoye rallied his spirits, aggressively tidying up the pots and pans before marching determinedly back to his room.
He locked the door behind him.
Opening his desk drawer, he looked at the jade slip and the cold-inscribed jade pendant inside. After a moment of silence, he hesitantly picked up the pendant. The chilly touch spreading from his fingertips gradually soothed his restless mind.
Jiang Zhaoye slowly tightened his grip on the pendant, chanting inwardly like a mantra... When you're strong enough, then you can think about those things.
Early the next morning, he teleported back to the ice cave.
Jiang Zhaoye didn't rush to cultivate. Sitting on the cold jade bed, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, slowly reviewing the contents of the Ice Muscle Jade Bone Art and the Psionic Guiding Technique in his mind, gradually letting his state of mind settle.
Then, spiritual energy began to circulate.
The familiar ice-attribute spiritual energy flowed gently through his meridians like a quiet stream, cool and steady.
He felt much better today than over the past two days. Perhaps because he had gotten a good night's sleep, the flow of spiritual energy felt exceptionally smooth.
Jiang Zhaoye didn't deliberately push for speed. He simply circulated the cultivation technique again and again with increasing composure, feeling the spiritual energy steadily grow within his body.
Three hours later, Xiao Ling's notification chime sounded. He slowly withdrew his power, picked up his watch, and took a glance.
[Psionic Energy: Metal 13, Water 40, Ice 56]
...
Over the next few days, Jiang Zhaoye lived a very structured life.
He cultivated in the ice cave by day, taking occasional breaks and no longer pushing himself as desperately as before.
He ate meals and watched TV with Ms. Wen, listening to her gossip about work and her reminders on what to prepare for the start of high school.
From time to time, he exchanged random messages on his phone with Chen Tuizhi, who seemed to have been spooked by his state a few days ago. When asked what he was up to, Jiang Zhaoye replied that he was doing nothing special, just resting up and building up his strength.
Jiang Zhaoye deliberately avoided thinking about that other world.
Yet those scenes... occasionally still woke him in the dead of night, though they gradually lost their sharp edge. It was like a murky river where muddy impurities slowly settled to the bottom; the water regained its clarity and calm, but the sand and stones remained.
On the afternoon of August 15th, a freshly showered Jiang Zhaoye leaned lazily against his chair, gazing out at the sky through the window.
Late-summer sunlight filtered through the window screen, casting bright patches of light onto the floor.
After watching for a while, he got up, walked to the closet, and opened the door, looking at the neatly folded black cloak and the full-face mask inside.
Jiang Zhaoye touched them absently, feeling their chilly texture.
Tomorrow was the census.
Once again, he couldn't help but think about that child...
Closing his eyes, Jiang Zhaoye skillfully talked himself down.
Stop thinking about it. Get through tomorrow first, then worry about the rest.
...
August 16th arrived, clear and sunny.
By the time Jiang Zhaoye and Chen Tuizhi arrived at school together, quite a crowd had already gathered at the entrance.
Graduates stood clustered in small groups under the shade of trees, chatting away. Some squatted on the steps scrolling through their phones, while others were held back by parents dispensing endless last-minute advice. The chirping of cicadas trickled down through the sycamore trees, merging with lively voices into a bustling, energetic din.
Carrying his backpack, Jiang Zhaoye paused to glance at the lively scene. Exchanging a glance with Chen Tuizhi, both felt a wave of relief as they walked down the tree-lined path into the school.
Ms. Wen had originally planned to take time off work to drop him off, but adolescent boys were hardly keen on being escorted by their parents, so it had taken quite some effort to convince her to go to work as usual instead.
Brother Tuizhi's situation was pretty much the same.
As the two reached the corner of the classroom building, they noticed a few familiar faces up ahead.
Chen Tuizhi was quite pleased and called out loudly, "Mingming—long time no see!"
They recognized all of them—they were all classmates from ninth grade, and Sun Mingming in particular often played basketball with them, making him an especially close friend.
The group had been huddled together talking, but at the sound of his voice, they turned around in unison.
"Hey~ Old Chen, you... gasp?" Sun Mingming reflexively waved his hand, but halfway through, he choked mid-sentence.
Not just him—everyone fell silent together, their eyes locking onto Jiang Zhaoye.
Sun Mingming was still clutching a half-empty bottle of iced black tea. The moment he raised it, both his motion and his voice froze, his eyes staring straight at Jiang Zhaoye.
Jiang Zhaoye raised an eyebrow, walked over calmly, and nodded. "Morning."
Sun Mingming didn't speak, slowly lowering the bottle of iced black tea.
He scanned Jiang Zhaoye up and down several times, then turned to look at the other buddies beside him. After exchanging shocked and bewildered glances back and forth with them for quite a while, he turned back stiffly, his voice carrying a trace of uncertainty. "...Jiang Zhaoye?"
"Yeah."
Sun Mingming opened his mouth wide, shut it, opened it again, and finally, his whole face contorted. "No way! Who the fuck are you?!"
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